


Fortunately I'm Crazy

by DarkmoonBoar



Series: Tumblr Bloodborne Drabbles [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Mention of Child Abuse, Murder, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pondering on a shitty life, mention of an eating disorder, mention of sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonBoar/pseuds/DarkmoonBoar
Summary: Vileblood Adrian contemplates his life and the precise moment he felt he actually had control as he kills an Executioner.





	Fortunately I'm Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my tumblr RP blog

Once, Adrian had been a happy, unassuming, friendly boy who wore glasses and gave goofy smiles. A boy that enjoyed blueberry tarts and sticky saltwater taffy. Once, his dark brown eyes held so much light and life and love. His laughter rang loud but pleasant when his friends cracked jokes, or his sister did something funny.

_Squelch._

To any outside observer, his transition from that, to the murderous, arrogant, brooding man, looked so sudden and sharp. Now, his smiles not only possessed fangs but a predatory edge. And his sable eyes now looked dark, sometimes even hollow, like something behind it had gone out or died. Even his sister reacted like he had just snapped over night, rather than all of life’s **bullshit** adding and adding to the weight on his back until finally, it was too much to bear. None of them had any clue, not even his own sister, knew how much he had suffered.

_Crack._

But the twenty-five year old knew that everyone else was broken on the inside, just like him. Shattered into a million pieces like a looking glass tossed carelessly across a room. He saw it in the way his sister looked at him at the end of the hunt when he would pretend to sleep on the couch after being woken up by that door that creaked no matter how well the hinges were greased, the way her eyes grow soft and sad and watery. Adrian hadn’t seen her cry in years, despite everything. She walked around like she was filled with glass and needles, and he could see it despite her stony appearance. After all, they were siblings, and he saw through her stoic disguise.

_Crunch._

He didn’t understand why people insisted on saying they were doing well when clearly, nothing was well. His mother had done it. His sister did it. When he worked at the clinic, he remembered some of his coworkers talking about melancholia, about minds that just weren’t right. Even the Church’s healing blood couldn’t right them, and in some cases, the Old Blood just made it worse. Purportedly. Adrian had never treated a hunter with such problems, so he didn’t know how much truth that held.

_Hiss._

Oh, if they only knew how incredibly _not_ sudden it had been. It had built up over time, first manifesting as an intense feeling of guilt. As a boy, he had just assumed all those times he felt the wrath of his father’s belt on his back, on his buttocks, and the back of his legs were _his_ fault. Of course, he didn’t understand it then, but he understood it _perfectly_ now. When he hit puberty and suddenly one of his father’s friends took interest in him, he took it to be entirely his fault. After all, he had gone in his house after being invited in, all hot and sweaty with twigs and leaves in his hair.

_Tear._

Then, he felt helpless as every day felt worse, as every single day, he felt like he was falling falling falling down a deeper and darker hole, with no one to save him but his sister but even she didn’t really know the whole of it. It never stopped. His drunken mother, now more than ever, seemed to ignore their existence. Now entirely too big to be dealt blows by their father, he just resorted to making them feel small. Especially him. Being reminded he was an accident. That his mother didn’t even want to have him, but at the possibility of having a son, his father forbade her from seeking the chemist or surgeon. And that his gentle nature meant he might as well be worse than useless if he couldn’t somehow contribute.

_Rip._

But it wasn’t the night the two of them agreed to kill their father that finally broke him for good, but it almost did. Neither Lucia nor Adrian had expected their mother, of all people, after suffering _worse_ than they had, to defend her husband as Luci took a cleaver to where his throat and shoulder and kept chopping at it until blood sprayed everywhere. And what else could he do but protect his sister when their mother leaped to her feet and began attacking her? He hadn’t even meant to hit her that hard with the pan, didn’t even realize he had the strength in him as he knocked it against her head. The sound of her falling to the ground like a bag of rocks had forever burned itself into his mind. He hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t. Lucia had to pull him away from her corpse as he stared off into space.

_Chomp._

It wasn’t over when they left, either. Trying to heal eighteen years of emotional and physical trauma in such a short amount of time should have been clearly folly. But gods, he couldn’t look at himself the same way afterwards. At the time, he hadn’t realized it, but he wanted to die. If it wasn’t for his mistake, their mother could still be alive. Widowed, but still alive. Maybe they could have taken her with them, rescued her from her husband. These possibilities always ran through his head as he looked at himself and saw a youthful, clean shaven father staring back at him, with the same hair, the same eyes, the same cheekbones, the same goddamn distinct chin. So slowly, he began to stop eating as depression wore away at him, unable to bring himself to eat much, wishing that one night his heart would stop beating.

_Gulp._

True, he started eating again, but it took the healing blood until he ever got back to his previous weight and appearance. In that time, he had become a respectable doctor, much to the chagrin of some of the narrow-minded Yharnamites. And goddamn, wasn’t that something, working hard to save the lives of the people that lived there, especially the poorer, and still being treated as gutter trash. He seethed just thinking about being stuck in that godforsaken cramped apartment because Yharnam natives just didn’t feel comfortable selling an actual house, let alone one large enough for two grown adults, to two outsiders.

_Moan._

And gods, over the years, he resented it. Life, thus far, treated him like a flea-bitten dog, constantly shoving his noses in messes he didn’t make. Simply put, Adrian found himself tired of it. He never felt in control over his life, and gods forbid, he would yank back the reigns from the world. The day he found the summons for the two of them in the mail for _Cainhurst Castle_ , of all places, was the day he decided he would make the world pay in spades for what it had done to him. The moment he became a Vileblood, he finally felt like he had made an actual meaningful choice.

The Vileblood returned to the present as he hovered over the heavily disfigured corpse of a male Executioner. First, he had punctured the belly of the _beast_ with his rapier when the wretch cornered him into an alley. And those eyes, gods those eyes, the way they eyed him like a wolf staring at a trapped doe. That same look he saw in the eyes of the man who used his body for three years, and he snapped. Jabbing at him with his rapier became punching him became stomping on his crumpled body. And just for spite, he tore the bloody bastard’s face off. Let them find his bloodless corpse here, with his jugular torn out and nearly unidentifiable just like the way a Logarius Wheel would leave Adrian.

Call him “melancholic” or simply crazy for expressing what he had long since denied himself. He didn’t need to justify himself to someone “normal.”


End file.
